Dorothy
by Usher
Summary: A long mission turns sour for Alan and his family


"Go ahead, John."

Jeff's shoulders slumped slightly as the voice of his middle son came over the speakers. It had been a long day, mission wise, and it seemed set to get even longer.

"There's just been an earthquake in California – a small one, but it's cut off a mountain town from the rest of the state. All roads and bridges in and out are destroyed. There are reports that some buildings have collapsed, but I couldn't get any more out of them. All communication lines were cut by an aftershock, and the authorities are requesting assistance. I'm sending you the co-ordinates now."

Jeff sighed. "FAB John. Boys, we've got another one."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Virgil close his eyes tiredly and nod. "FAB dad."

"Alan?" There hadn't been a peep from his youngest, and he knew he could usually rely on Alan or Gordon to be the most vocal about their state of being. In this case tired, cold, hungry and in desperate need of a bath. Mudslides don't care if you're wearing a new uniform.

"FAB Dad." Alan mumbled almost incoherently before sneezing into a tissue. "Sorry."

"How's the head cold?" Jeff turned and gave him a comforting smile, trying hard not to let it turn into a grin. His baby truly looked pathetic. His hair and uniform were rumpled and caked with mud, his eyes were bloodshot and he looked miserable. But he wasn't bad enough to ground, no matter how much he grumbled. So now he was sneezing and snuffling in the back of Thunderbird 2.

"I'm fine, dad." Alan sighed tiredly, letting his head tilt back. He wasn't. Both of them knew it, but he couldn't take anything for the pounding headache or his blocked sinus's until they were back on the island.

"Right!" Virgil huffed. "That's why you've been sneezing into the back of my neck for the last twenty minutes."

"Boys." That was all it took to diffuse the upcoming argument. Jeff was quite proud of that, but he did have to ignore Alan's grumbled, 'didn't say anything.'

OOOoooOOO

"What's up with the Sprout?" John asked after he had relayed the information to Scott and Gordon aboard Thunderbird 1..

"Bad head cold. You know what he's like with one of them."

Up on the space station, John chuckled. When Alan was sick, he liked nothing more than to be left alone. If there were no missions, even Kyrano would normally just push a tray into the room…or if he was really ill, leave it on the floor beside the bed.

"Being stuck in a mud-slide didn't help I'm guessing?"

Even Gordon laughed at that. It had been serious when it happened, but looking back, the expression on Alan's face had been priceless.

"I wish I'd had a camera." He laughed and Scott shook his head.

"That was dangerous, Gordon. He could have died." He appeared to think for a moment and added, "but I will agree, I kind of whish I'd had a camera. Especially when he lost his boots. Little rat got a kiss from the woman, though…maybe he's not as dumb as we thought."

OOOoooOOO

Having set Thunderbird 1 down on the large green area at the edge of the town, Scott made himself busy setting up Mobile Control while the others began organising what they were going to do to help the few rescue personnel that had managed to make it as far as the stricken town. Jeff was busy talking with the chief of police and the chief of the local fire department, both of which had organised the survivors into four groups. The injured, those who were taking care of the injured, those who were of no help - too young and too old, and those who were able to help search the damaged buildings for survivors. Thankfully, from a head-count, there weren't too many still missing, but the ones that were, were children. And every building had to be searched.

Alan listened as his father quickly assessed the situation, absently picking dried pieces of mud from his uniform, letting them fall to the floor. Beside him, Virgil grinned under the half-visor of his helmet, and helped him with some of the larger pieces on his back.

"Alan, pay attention." Jeff warned them when he had finished. Both stood straight and nodded, while Alan gave a half-grin and said back verbatim what had been said in the last minute and a half. "And don't be smart."

Virgil snickered, but narrowed his eyes when Alan replied, "I'm sorry sir. I can't help it if I'm the only member of my family that inherited my parent's wisdom and intelligence." The smug moment was slightly spoiled by a violent sneeze.

Alan sniffed and saluted his father along with Gordon and Virgil before taking a step back to go to their teams. Virgil wrapped a friendly arm around his little brother's shoulders, slowly moving it around until it was slung around his neck, and with a quick movement, had him in a headlock and was dragging the teenager bodily towards the rescue workers.

"It's hard when they need a good kicking and you're not their parent, isn't it." Wigam murmured, watching them go.

Jeff sighed heavily and murmured under his breath, "Sometimes, even being their parent doesn't work."

OOOoooOOO

Alan let his team lead the way to their search area, earning brownie points from the team. They didn't like the thoughts of outsiders leading the rescue efforts, but Alan had kindly pointed out that they knew the way around the town and he didn't. But had added quietly, that when push came to shove, he expected them all to obey him without question. After all, he'd been trained for this sort of work, and they hadn't. With a minimum of grumbling, they agreed to do as the teenager told them to, and soon were busy checking each building as Alan walked down the street with a hand-held heat-scanner. After twenty minutes, Scott's voice chimed in his ear.

"You got anything Sprout?"

Alan shook his head, keeping his eyes on the screen. "Nada, Scott. We're almost to the end of the road now. Any of the others?"

Back at Mobile Control, Scott shook his head. "Negative, sprout. But the 7th Grade field trip has just checked in. One sprained ankle and everyone accounted for. We're still missing 8 of the 12th Graders though. All anyone knows is that they had a half day as the teacher was out and they couldn't get anyone to sub. Most of 'em could be anywhere. Keep searching and keep your ears and eyes pealed."

"FAB Scott." Alan murmured, beckoning his team around him. "Ladies and Gentlemen, just got some good news. The class of 7th Graders have been found, all present and accounted for and the only injury is a sprained ankle."

Everyone in the group let out a sigh of relief, some looking a lot more relieved than others, and one woman sat down on a doorstep, putting her head in her hands. As the others got back to work, Alan crouched in front of her and offered her a bottle of water.

"You ok?" He asked softly, relieved when she looked up and gave him a watery smile.

"I'll be ok. Both my boys were in the group that were missing. Something tells me my Aaron is the one that sprained his ankle. He's always tripping up."

Alan smiled and patted her gently on the shoulder , urging her to drink from the water bottle. Making sure she would sit until her weakness passed, he got up and spotted a movement in a window across the way, from the second floor of a 3 floor building. Sizing up the building, he noted that it seemed in better condition than many on the street, but decided to check it out anyhow. The place had to be fully evacuated no matter what.

"Linda, I thought I saw something move up in that building. Do you know who lives there?"

Linda looked up from scrubbing her eyes with a tissue and shook her head. "No one should be in there. It's only newly renovated and the owner hasn't moved back in yet."

Alan nodded and trotted across the street. He had a funny feeling he knew where the missing 12th Graders were. Preparing to kick in the door, he paused and shook his head, turning the handle. He rolled his eyes when the door opened and he quickly mounted the stairs as silently as he could, avoiding discarded paint cans and dust sheets. Approaching the front room, he heard voices and gritted his teeth, shaking his head. He silently cleared his throat and puffed up his shoulders, trying to make himself look bigger. It wasn't like he was a small fry, in fact, he was taller than Gordon, but those he was going to be confronting were the same age as, if not older, than he. Whispering into his mike, he contacted Scott and told him that he thought he had the kids.

Scott frowned and nodded, beckoning his father and the police chief over. "Turn on the helmet-cam Sprout. I think the officials are going to want to see this." Flicking the communication on to broadcast, he explained what Alan thought.

Stepping into the room, Alan took a deep breath and bellowed "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING IN HERE? DO KNOW HOW MANY PEOPLE ARE OUT SEARCHING FOR YOU? DO YOU KNOW WHAT KIND OF TROUBLE YOU ARE GOING TO BE IN WHEN THEY FIND OUT THAT YOU'RE OK AND YOU WERE HIDING FROM THE PEOPLE OUT IN THE STREET CALLING YOUR NAMES FOR THE PAST_ HALF HOUR_! LET ALONE THE FACT THAT THERE'S BEEN AN EARTHQUAKE, AND THE TOWN WAS EVACUATED! YOUR PARENTS MUST BE WORRIED SICK ABOUT YOU!"

The group stared at him, dumbfounded, one in the middle of using a small propane camping stove to heat a can of soup.

"What gives you the right to tell us what to do?" One muttered, standing up with his fists clenched. Alan saw the letter on his jacket, and knew the kid was a jock, and even worse, was a big head in a small town. Taking in a deep breath, Alan lowered his chin, looking at the more heavily muscled boy levelly. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that two of the boys and one of the girls were obviously a lot brighter than the other five and were picking up their stuff and making their way to the door.

"Pardon?" Alan asked, his voice low and suddenly dangerous.

"I _said_, what gives you the right to tell us what to do?" The jock stepped forwards, a smirk on his face as his buddies laughed behind him. He was the same height as Alan, but more heavily built. And at that particular time, Alan didn't care. Taking a step forwards, he poked him in the chest, putting him momentarily off balance.

"The fact that I saw your mothers bawling their eyes out when I landed, thinking you were lying in the rubble of a building somewhere, dead. The fact that I haven't slept in nearly 36 hours because I've been searching for missing miners in Australia that were caught up in the middle of a bush fire, and when we found 'em 9 of 'em were dead. The fact that three hours ago, I was up to my chest in a mudslide pulling idiots like you out of the sludge just because they _can't _read a sign saying that the road was out! The fact that I'm sick and I should be in bed, and yet instead, I find myself thousands of miles away from home in California looking for your ugly butt. The fact that the entire town are searching for you, saying prayers for your sorry ass, and here you are, sitting pretty, eating _soup_! while some of us haven't eaten since yesterday. NOW MOVE YOUR ASS OUT THAT DOOR AND DOWN THOSE STAIRS BEFORE ANOTHER AFTERSHOCK HITS AND THE LOT OF US ARE FLATTENED LIKE PANCAKES BECAUSE YOUR HEAD IS JAMMED SO FAR UP YOUR ASS THAT YOU THINK IT'S MIDNIGHT!"

OOOoooOOO

Back at mobile control, Jeff, Scott and Wigam were trying hard not to laugh as the jock's legs seemed to move on their own accord and he ran from the irate IR man, thundering down the stairs with his friends right behind him.

Jeff leant forwards and put his hand on the transmit button. "Nice work, Alan. I couldn't have put it better myself."

Alan grinned behind his visor and shrugged, making the image on the screen jiggle slightly. "Thanks, sir. I think I was channelling a bit of Op1 there. I just thought, WWSD."

Jeff snorted and took his hand off the button, while Scott glowered at the screen.

"What's WWSD?" Wigam looked confused and Jeff smiled, amused.

"What would Scott do." Both men chuckled and listened as Alan continued.

"I'm just going to shut down the gas cylinder and make sure the place is empty, then we'll head back. I take it that's the last of the missing?"

Jeff nodded as the image on screen showed Alan bend down to switch off the stove. "That's affirmative, Alan. Head back to mobile control and we'll have you tucked up in bed in a few hours."

Alan sneezed and then sighed. "Great!" Going to the window, he spotted Linda berating the group of teenagers in the street and shouted down to her, "That's the last of the missing. Tell the team they can pack up and head back to the camp. I'll be down in a minute."

Linda held up her hand to show she understood and Alan murmured into his mike, "Switching off helmet cam now, see you back at the 'birds'."

Moments after he switched off the camera, the room began to shake and shudder, and he ran towards the huge fireplace sliding in feet first as bricks and debris began to rain down around him.

OOOoooOOO

Linda O'Connell had one boy by the scruff of the neck, and her niece by the ear and was dragging them bodily down the street as the other rescuers followed behind, dragging the other kids with them, when the aftershock hit. This was stronger than the others had been, and they all ran for cover, sighing with relief when it stopped as suddenly as it had begun.

The jock, known as T-bone to his friends, and Timothy to his parents, however, had twisted around in her grip and was staring open mouthed at the gaping hole which had contained the building they had been hiding in.

"Aunt Linda…" The girl whispered, her hand going to her mouth, as the others stood staring in shock.

"Nadia, run to the Town Square, that's where everything is being coordinated from. Tell them that one of the Thunderbirds is in a building that collapsed and bring everyone right back here! Take Jim and T-bone with you."

T-bone grabbed Nadia's arm and dragged her down the street with him, breaking in to a sprint as he neared the corner.

Taking off her jacket, Linda and the others approached the rubble, calling out Alan's name.

OOOoooOOO

Virgil was sitting on the edge of a fountain, drinking a cup of coffee when the two boys and girl skidded around the corner, crying out for help. The girl was near hysterics and the two boys looked like they weren't too far off, babbling like mad-men.

"Hold on, hold on. Slower. What's wrong?" He asked the more composed of the three. T-bone took a deep breath and began again,

"Everybody's gotta come. The house the Thunderbird guy was in collapsed. He's still in there an' he's not answering. He was on the second floor. There's nothing left standing."

Virgil immediately began calling Alan on his radio, paling when he got no reply. Now completely white, he half -turned, and looked over to where Scott was busy shutting up mobile control.

"SCOTT!"

Scott frowned at the panic in his brother's voice, and paused in the middle of lifting a chair. "What's wrong?"

Virgil squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. "We have a Thunderbird down. Trapped in the wreckage of a house about quarter of a mile away. Not answering on the radio. Let the commander and Gordon know. I'm going there now."

Scott dropped the chair he was holding and sprinted for the civilian command tent, yelling out loudly.

Inside, Jeff paused in the middle of praising the rescuers inside and frowned as his eldest pushed his way inside, panting heavily.

"We have a Thunderbird down…"

OOOoooOOO

"Alan! Can you hear me?" Virgil had found an empty pocket of space in amongst the bricks, and lowered his head and shoulders into the hole, hoping to find someone or something. There was no reply, and he rubbed a grubby hand across an even grubbier face. "Alan! If you don't answer me, so help me I'm gonna beat you when I find you." Even this got no response and kneeling beside him, Linda felt a hot tear roll down her cheek. Grimly, she began tossing bricks aside, oblivious to those working around her. At one point, she looked up and saw that the rest of the Thunderbirds had joined them, and the man scrabbling beside her had tears running down his cheeks beneath the half-visor of his helmet.

OOOoooOOO

Alan groaned quietly to himself in the darkness. Miraculously, he was still breathing, and even more of a miracle, only half of his body was pinned, meaning that at least some of him had made it into the fireplace. Unfortunately, his head wasn't part of it, and he could feel some kind of beam lying across his head and shoulders. Biting back a whimper, he moved bricks with his free hand to shore up the beam and carefully felt at his helmet, which came apart in his hands. Sliding back, he moved to the side until he was completely out from beneath it and in the hollow space the fireplace had provided. Feeling some of the rubble around him move, he hurriedly covered his head with his good hand. The last thing he needed right now was a well placed brick braining him.

Sitting against the solid back wall of the hearth, he began to take stock of his injuries. His head was aching and his shoulders were burning, along with a dull ache deep inside which extended down his back, hip and leg. And his wrist was pointing the wrong way with a large cut running diagonally, bleeding sluggishly. Even as he watched, the bleeding slowed and stopped, bringing a momentary feeling of relief. Dragging his eyes away from the offending broken limb, he carefully opened the front of his jump-suit and placed his arm inside, letting the tight suit act like a sling.

Fumbling at his chest for the radio unit, he managed to find the button. "Alan to base, come in." There was nothing but heavy static, and he carefully turned the dial to a different frequency. "Alan to Thunderbird 5, come in." Again he got nothing, and growling with frustration he tried each of his brothers and father's frequency's. "Dammit guys answer me!"

"Alan?"

His head jerked up when he heard the familiar voice call his name and he shouted out with relief, "Da-Sir! I'm here! Here!"

Up on the surface, Linda began scrabbling where she could hear the voice, and soon had found his empty pocket. He blinked up at her in the strong sunlight that shone through the gap and smiled. "Hey there, pretty lady, care to give an injured guy a hand?"

Linda shook her head in amazement, seeing the boy's face for the first time. He was so young…

Making the hole larger, she helped him stand and gently pulled him out, supporting him as he slithered over the rubble, handing him off to the man who had been working beside her.

She sat back on her haunches as the boy gazed up into the man's visor with a half smile, tufts of blonde hair sticking up, matted with blood and dust.

"You are crying…why are you crying?" He reached up with his good hand and gently wiped away the tears.

"Damnit, Alan, I thought I'd lost you." Jeff breathed emotionally, cradling him gently against his chest. "Are you hurt badly?"

Alan took as deep a breath as he could and answered, "I'm going to be on desk duty for a while. I don't think there's much broken…just my wrist…and maybe a rib or two. The rest is just… bruised. Very bruised. I managed to get half my body into the fireplace, just not the right way. I kind of need a new helmet to go with the new boots from this morning."

Jeff gave a watery smile and nodded, brushing a lock of hair away from Alan's face. "I need a stretcher here." He looked up as Gordon scrabbled over the debris towards him, his face white with fright.

"Sir?"

"He's ok, Gordon. Not 100 percent, but he's not checking out on us any time soon."

Gordon nodded, unbuckling his med kit and starting to check his brother over. "Virg and Scott are coming with the stretcher and neck-brace. Ok Sprout, follow my finger."

As he began to check if Alan had damaged his head, Jeff looked around to see that the bulk of the rescuers were staring at them. He nodded his thanks, and was surprised to see how many people lined the street, watching, waiting and praying. When Scott and Virgil turned up with the stretcher, they carefully loaded Alan onto it, stepping over the rubble with care, trying not to jostle him too much.

Jeff and Gordon trailed behind them, trying not to break their own ankles, and when they finally made it down to the ground, a doctor was busy checking him over.

"Gordon, how is he?" Scott asked, cornering his brother. Gordon took a breath, slipping off his rubber gloves.

"He'll be ok. One hell of a concussion, probable skull fracture. Whatever hit him was hard and heavy. I wouldn't be surprised if there was damage to his shoulder bones, and even less surprised about muscle damage. His collarbone is a bit iffy too. Wrist is broken quite badly, I'd say he tried to break his fall with it, or it got smashed by whatever hit his head and shoulder. Ribs are so so. Could just be badly bruised, but they could be broken. No floaters from what I could feel, but he will need an x-ray." He looked up to see the doctor looking at him, listening to his description of the injuries.

"That's about right I'd say. You are due for a spell in hospital, young man." The doctor produced his stethoscope and began listening to Alan's chest.

"How do we explain this one?" Scott asked, blushing slightly as the Police Chief appeared.

"We will discuss that later." Jeff murmured quickly as Wigam came within hearing distance.

"You got him?" the lean man asked, running his hand through his thinning hair. Jeff nodded gratefully.

"We got him. We're going to bug out now and leave the clean-up to you."

Wigam nodded and shook his hand firmly. "Thank you. If your men hadn't been here, we probably would have lost Timothy and the others when the building fell. Thank you."

Jeff nodded as the doctor indicated to the others that they could move Alan. Within a few minutes, the two huge machines had taken off and were heading north to throw people off their trail, watched by the entire town.

OOOoooOOO

"Stay with me Alan." Virgil murmured as Alan's eyes slid closed.

Alan grunted grumpily and sneezed, whimpering directly after. "I'm not going anywhere Virg." He sniffed and screwed his eyes shut. "I think I got busted ribs."

"You are more than likely right. I'm going to give you a shot of Moredol for the pain…I can't give you anything stronger though…sorry."

Alan risked nodding and sneezed again. "I know. Buildings falling on top of you tend to give you concussion." He sighed again and rubbed his eyes with his good hand. "What are we going to tell the doctors?"

Virgil sat back on his stool, feeling Thunderbird 2 bank to the right as their father corrected their heading back to south. "I'm not sure, sprout. Probably that you were exploring some caves on the island and something fell on you. What did fall on you?"

"The lintel from the fireplace. It was a huge granite one. Stretched about half the length of the room. Dude had some fine pad before it fell down. I knew I'd never make the doorway in time, so I went for the fireplace instead. Probably a good thing I did. The doorway wouldn't have saved me."

"The fireplace nearly killed you though." Virgil muttered as he produced a syringe and injected him with the cloudy contents.

"Nah. Takes more than that to kill a Tracy." Alan murmured with a sleepy smile. Once more, though, he sneezed and whimpered "Definite broken ribs." With that, his eyes closed again, and they remained closed.

"Alan, wake up!" Virgil slapped at Alan's face trying to bring him back to consciousness. "Damnit Alan!" He looked at the blood pressure monitor and saw that it had fallen much lower than it had been before. Things were not looking good.

"Virgil to Gordon, tell dad to step on it. Alan's passed out on me and I can't get him to wake up again. His BP is falling, slowly but steadily. We need to get him to a hospital ASAP. Possible internal bleeding."

Wide-eyed, Gordon watched as his father's fingers gripped the stick tighter and he opened the throttle, driving the large green behemoth to the limits of its design. "Hang on Virgil, we're going as fast as we can. Do you need me back there?"

Virgil took another look at the read-outs and shook his head. "I don't think so. Not right now. There's nothing we can really do except monitor him. If I shout though, get back here as fast as you can. No dallying."

"Aye sir." Gordon muttered, chewing on a nail. After a few minutes, he looked at his father and unbuckled his harness. "I'll go and see how he is."

Jeff nodded curtly and worried a nail with his teeth, echoing Gordon's earlier actions.

"John, come in." He murmured quietly into his radio. John came on immediately, demanding to know if Alan was ok.

"He is going downhill John. The Muir Island Clinic is too far for us to get there in time. I want you to get on to the Payton Clinic in San Francisco. Tell them that we're coming in with a desperately injured man and require assistance. Ask them if we can land and have him treated there. Actually…no…just patch me through to Wyatt Base itself. I know who to talk to."

Less than a minute later, Jeff was listening to John patching him through to the Air Force Base. When he was done, a woman's voice, obviously a receptionist asked him how he could direct his call.

"I need to talk to General Oscar Felix. It's an emergency. Tell him it's Rocket Man." He waited for what seemed to be an eternal amount of time before a familiar voice greeted him cheerfully.

"No time for pleasantries, Osc., I've got a bit of a situation here. Do you remember what we talked about just after Lucy died? That night we were out on the deck and I had Alan asleep on my lap?"

Sitting in his office, Oscar sat up straight with a frown creasing his forehead. "Yeees…I think so…if it's…oh!" Things finally clicked and his eyes widened. "You did it, didn't you! It's you…ah shit! What's wrong?"

"I have a man down and the medical expertise needed isn't available. I need you to pull strings so we can land at Payton Clinic. Have a team ready when we get there. It's the most secure site I can think of and it's the closest."

"How bad is he?" Oscar demanded, pen poised.

"Head and chest injuries. He was pinned in the rubble of a house for nearly 30 minutes. His BP is falling and he's non responsive."

"Just head straight there, Jeff. They will be ready. I'll meet you there."

Jeff swallowed a lump in his throat he hadn't realised was there and let out a relieved breath. They would be at the Air Force hospital in fifteen minutes.

When he finally set TB2 down, he unbuckled himself quickly, dashing to the back of the craft. Gordon and Virgil were already at the door with the stretcher, both with their helmets firmly on. Alan's face was covered by an oxygen mask and Jeff hurriedly buckled his helmet on before throwing the door open and helping them back down the steps with the stretcher.

True to Oscar's words, a medical team were standing by with a gurney, and ran forwards, transferring their precious cargo quickly and efficiently before running off with him. Virgil ran after them with Jeff not far behind, leaving Gordon to secure Thunderbird 2. Three MP's stood nearby, their hands on their guns as they scanned the perimeter.

"We have another twelve men on their way, sir. We will stand watch over your machines while you are here."

Gordon nodded, shading his eyes against the sun as Scott brought Thunderbird 1 in for landing, looking like he was coming in too low and too fast not to crash. The machine landed with a feather light touch and Gordon shook his head. Even bringing the bird in like that for a landing, Scott managed to make it look easy. He silently watched Scott run down the steps and across the tarmac, buckling the helmet quickly.

"I thought he was ok! The doctor said he'd be ok to transport! What the hell happened?"

Gordon shrugged, breaking into a trot to keep up with his taller brother's long strides. "His BP started dropping, it was in double digits by the time we landed. Possible internal bleeding. He was sneezing…it might have disrupted his broken ribs…pierced something…I don't know, Scott."

Scott stopped and realised that it had sounded like he was accusing his brother of missing something. "He'll be ok, Gordon. You did as much as you could for him."

Gordon grimaced and walked on to catch up with the airman that was leading them inside. "Yeah, but I should have insisted I checked him over before we moved him. That doctor was overworked and fatigued."

When they got inside, they found that Jeff and Virgil had been placed in a quiet waiting room on their own, and both were pacing nervously.

"He's been brought straight to an operating room." Jeff quickly filled them in. Virgil nodded and sat down tiredly.

"TB 1 and 2 are secured and there are about 15 MP's guarding them right now. Probably be more in a while." He sighed, rubbing at his face under his visor.

Jeff nodded and sat down beside him, massaging the back of his neck. "Do you know what the worst thing about this is?"

All three of them shook their heads and indicated he should continue. "The worst thing is that there is no one to blame. He followed protocol correctly. We followed protocol correctly. It's just one of those things that happens that no one can stop. No one can help. It's like Gordon's accident. Only by not being out on the water could he have avoided the crash. And that wasn't going to happen."

Gordon smiled wryly, nodding. "You are right, sir. Not a chance in hell. And I'd say hell would freeze over before Alan gave up being a Thunderbird. Just like the rest of us."

There was a duet of agreement from Scott and Virgil, causing Jeff to smile grimly.

"Thanks boys."

"Sir." A voice from the door called, and Jeff looked up to find Oscar standing in full uniform, his hat tucked underneath his arm.

"Colonel. Thank you for arranging things so swiftly."

Oscar nodded and quickly shut the door firmly behind him, blocking the view of any observers outside.

"Jeff. It's good to see you again. I just wish it was under better circumstances."

Jeff nodded and rose to shake his old Rio's hand. "Oscar. It's good to see you again."

Oscar nodded and sat down beside him, his eyes resting on the two men that were still pacing up and down the waiting room.

"Are they ok Jeff? Was anyone else injured?"

Jeff shook his head. "No. No one else, just Alan. He was alone in the building when it collapsed. That's why I hate earthquakes so much. There's no way to judge when the aftershocks will occur. It's a dangerous time. But he had no way of knowing that the building would fall when it did. There were kids inside and they wouldn't come out."

"Too frightened." Oscar murmured, knitting his fingers together.

"Frightened?! Hah! Too busy having a cook out…cook in." Scott blurted out finally, waving his hands in frustration. "Damnit, if they'd left when they heard the evacuation claxon, or even when the searchers were calling their names, he'd be fine now. On his way home. Instead, they decided to be assholes about the whole thing, and then fight with him when he told them to get out. You said there was no one to blame, dad, but there is. The little pricks that can't follow orders."

"That's enough Scott. Your brother will be alright. We just have to trust in the doctors." Jeff's voice was quiet but forceful, and Scott immediately stopped talking, but Jeff could see that his eldest boy would be nursing the anger, and from the looks on his brothers faces beneath their visors, they would be too.

"Jeff…wait, Alan? That's little Alan in there?" Oscar blurted out, shooting to his feet. He looked around at the others as they raised their visors to look properly at the man they hadn't seen in years. Clenching his fists, he slowly began to shake his head. "Scott? Virgil? You are all in on it." He sat back down and rested his face in his hands, covering his eyes. Finally, he took his hands away from his face. "Why didn't you tell me, Jeff?" He asked quietly, looking at his old friend seriously. "I could have helped. I would have loved to have helped."

Jeff nodded, swallowing hard. "Oscar, what I was…what we are doing is dangerous work. I couldn't ask you to drop your career, your life…You had just gotten married and you had a baby on the way. Would you seriously have upped sticks and left them to live on an island in the middle of nowhere to go on missions to god only knows what situation, leaving Trish alone with a new born baby? My wife was gone, Osc. I could afford to drag my boys to the island. They were mostly grown. Gordon had only a few years of school left. Alan, at that stage could be vid-schooled until I thought he was old enough to go to boarding school. It took a good few years to get everything up and running, working out problems, and by the stage we were ready to operate, you had three little girls. Osc…"

"I understand, Jeff. I don't like it, and I'm not happy, but I understand. I just wish you'd told me you were doing it. Like I said, I could have helped. In a way that was non-detrimental to my marriage. And a phone call every once in a while might have been nice."

Jeff managed to look contrite as an awkward silence descended on the room, and as the minutes stretched out, Scott began to pace again.

Watching his godson walk up and down the room, Oscar thought back to that night beneath the stars as Jeff carefully cradled his five year old son in his arms, being mindful of the boy's injuries. They'd just managed to get Alan out of the hospital, almost two weeks after Lucy had been buried, and Jeff had been shuttling back and forth between the hospital, the lodge and his mother's home, trying to organise the funeral and take care of the boys who were all shell shocked at the untimely death of their mother in an avalanche. An accident that had nearly taken three of his sons along with his wife. John and Scott had been lucky to escape. They'd been further along the trail than Lucy, who had been pointing out deer tracks in the snow to little Alan. But they hadn't been far enough away to miss the horror of the white wall of snow, rocks and trees descending on their mother, tearing Alan from her arms.

Further up along the trail, Jeff, Virgil and Gordon had heard the rumbling and a brief, cut-off scream and instantly knew what was wrong. By the time they reached the spot, they found Scott frantically scrabbling in the snow as John ran for help from the nearby lodge where they had been staying.

Oscar knew that Jeff had no memory of the events that happened over the next two days, but Oscar did. Those memories would never leave him. They'd all been staying in the lodge together. Four Air Force buddies, past and present, and their families. He knew he'd never forget the look on John's face as he ran into the family room of the lodge, nearly in hysterics, shouting that his mother was gone. He'd left the boy with his wife while he, Jake Dum and John Bohr had run back up the slope.

It was Scott that found Alan, locating his snow encrusted, red mittened hand just below the surface. He'd let out a shout and Oscar had abandoned his search to scrabble in the snow beside him. When they'd uncovered him, his skin was blue, and his eyes were staring glassily up at the sky. But Scott had found a pulse and had dashed back down the slope with the limp body of his brother in his arms, screaming for the Mountain Rescue Medics that had just arrived to help him.

They hadn't found Lucy until well after the sun had gone down, and by then, it was too late. He had lost her. John Bohr and Jake had half-carried him back down the mountain to the lodge, helping him sit on the bed. When the reality of what happened had come crushing down on him, he'd locked himself in his room, leaving the care of his sons to Jake's wife Cyd. For two days, he neither ate, nor slept, ignoring the worried questions from his family and friends, staring into the distance with soulless eyes. It was late on the second night when ten year old Gordon, armed with Alan's Teddybear shook him to his senses. All it took was eight words. "Is Alan going to go away like Mommy?"

Jeff had looked at him in confusion, not understanding what his little redheaded mischief maker had meant. "What Gordon?" He'd sat up and took his son's arms in his hands.

"Is Alan going to die like Mommy. John said he is because the machines are only keeping him alive. But Scott said he'd be ok…Is he? Is he going to be ok?"

Oscar had watched from the doorway as Jeff came crashing back down to earth with a thud. In his grief over losing his wife, he had forgotten about his children. Getting a hold of himself, he pulled Gordon onto his lap and hugged him tight, kissing his hair and stroking his face. "I don't know, Gordon. But I'll find out, ok. Now get into bed. It's late." He'd tucked Gordon up in his bed and kissed his forehead before turning out the light and leaving him to sleep. He found Oscar waiting for him outside the room, the older man's face taught with emotion.

"Oscar…" Jeff couldn't speak, and Oscar had just grabbed him in the tightest hug he could manage. When Jeff had finally managed to stop crying, he pulled away tearfully. "Alan…where is Alan? Gordon said…" He couldn't even managed to say it and Oscar had shook his head.

"He's just out of surgery again. Jeff, it's not looking good for the sprout. He has internal injuries, both his arms are broken…"

"I need to go to him." Oscar had nodded and led him out to a jeep, climbing behind the wheel. When he started the engine Jeff had bowed his head as the news came on, and the serious newscaster had begun to talk of Lucy and Alan. Oscar had went to turn it off, but Jeff's hand stopped him. "I'll listen. It's ok. I'll be ok now. I have to be. My boys need me." It sounded to Oscar like he was trying to convince himself, but by the time they reached the hospital, Jeff was completely composed and Oscar was reminded of when they would be preparing to go for a dangerous mission. Jeff would go eerily calm. His entire focus on the mission ahead.

They made a brief trip down to the morgue, to where Lucy was lying. He spent five agonising minutes with her, saying his own quiet goodbye, apologising to her for taking so long to come, and then that he had to go and be with Alan. Oscar had felt hot tears stream down his face when Jeff had brokenly told her that he was sorry, but she would have to wait for him, and then added that he was too selfish to let her have Alan just yet either.

When they arrived at the recovery room, Jeff had been devastated to see his tiny son surrounded by so many machines all of which were beeping alarmingly. Three doctors stood around the bed watching him closely, two still in their green surgical scrubs, their masks hanging from around their necks.

When they saw Jeff, they shared a concerned look and beckoned him over, speaking softly.

"It's not looking good for him, Mr. Tracy. We can't get him to stabilise. He had massive internal injuries and we have managed to stop the bleeding again, but…" The older man shook his head and let out a long sigh. "It might help him if you sit with him."

And so Jeff had sat by the head of the bed, between the bed and the wall, out of the way of the nurses and doctors as they checked tubes and sensors. After a while, he put his hands on Alan's shoulders and laid his own head beside the mop of blonde unruly hair, resting his stubbled cheek against his baby's soft one. No one could hear what he was whispering, but slowly, over the next few hours, Alan began to stabilise, his blood pressure returning to normal, and colour returning to his cheeks. When Jeff fell asleep, they left him where he was, one concerned nurse covering his back with a blanket, tucking it around him so he didn't get cold.

Oscar took that opportunity to leave and get back to the lodge, only to be stopped by the doctor who had talked to Jeff.

"Is he going to be ok?" The man asked carefully. Jeff's appearance had startled him when he had first seen him. Unshaven and wild-eyed, looking like he was on the brink of a breakdown, his face white above the green scrubs he had been given to wear.

Oscar had twisted his hat in his hands and looked back in at the sleeping duo.

"His wife has just died and his son is…" He gestured helplessly in the direction of the isolation room. "But he five sons looking to him. He'll pull through because of them. Because he promised Lucy. And he's too stubborn to let this get him."

Slowly, agonisingly slowly, Alan had pulled through, though he hadn't been well enough to leave the hospital for his mother's funeral. Scott had quietly volunteered to stay with his brother, having already said his goodbyes. Jeff had begun to protest, but when he saw the look in his sixteen year olds eyes, he relented.

"Dad, Mom would understand. You need to be there…but Alan needs someone with him now. You'll be gone for a couple of days and Alan's still too poorly to move nearer to home. I'll stay with him in the hospital. I've already asked the nurses." At that moment, Jeff couldn't be more proud of his eldest son. While he had been lost in his grief, Scott had taken care of Virgil, John and Gordon, giving them the comfort that their father was incapable of giving at that point in time. And then, while he was shuttling back and forth between the hospital and the lodge, trying to divide his time between all his children, Scott had quietly sat by Alan's bed, letting Jeff rest, holding the limp hand of his silent little brother.

Two weeks later, Alan had been released from hospital, both arms encased in casts and his abdomen heavily swathed in bandages. He had yet to speak a word, preferring instead to sit or lie and stare out the window. When they got home, Alan was fast asleep and it was dark, so Jeff had put him straight to bed. His mother had given him a tight hug, and sat down on the bed beside her sleeping grandson, cuddling him close.

Jeff found Oscar and Scott sitting on the back porch, looking out over the grassland that stretched behind his mother's home, and snagged a beer, sitting down on the deck beside them. He was amused to see that Oscar had given Scott a lite beer to drink, and Oscar simply shook his head and shrugged.

"You started drinking when you were fourteen, Tracy. And it was the hard stuff. Besides, I'm sure it's not his first one."

Scott had blushed and looked at his father for approval. Jeff shook his head but finally nodded. "Ok. But just the one."

Scott gave a small smile and quietly sipped at his beer. Oscar was right, it wasn't his first. They had sat in comfortable silence for a long time, watching the stars, until the soft patter of feet on the wood made Jeff look up to find Alan standing in front of him, his tatty white bear, finally retrieved from Gordon, clutched awkwardly to his chest. With both arms still in their rigid casts, he'd found it hard to hold anything, let alone the floppy white bear.

Jeff wordlessly held out his hands and Alan cautiously slipped into his arms, cuddling up close to his father, mindful of the twinges of pain the stitches on his belly and chest gave him. Scott said goodnight and went inside, leaving the two childhood friends talking quietly on the edge of the back porch. They talked about a lot that night. About Lucy, and Patricia, their children. They talked about old missions, the good times and the bad, and all the while, Alan lay curled up in his father's lap, listening intently as his father absently stroked his hair, the ear of the bear firmly stuck in his mouth since he couldn't suck his thumb. As he listened, the talk had turned to what could have been done to save his mother, the ideas evolving and changing until they had worked out how to deal with almost every problem that could come up, describing vehicles and methods of rescue. And as the ideas evolved they filled his young impressionable mind. When the sun began to rise, Alan's eyes finally slid closed, and he murmured 'I'll fly de wed wocket', snuggling his face against his father's shirt.

Jeff and Oscar shared an amused glance, and Jeff had bent his head and kissed him gently on the crown of his head. "Sure you will, sprout. Sure you will."

OOOoooOOO

Jeff looked up to find Oscar's eyes staring at him through his tinted visor.

"What?" He asked tiredly, in no mood to have an argument with one of his oldest friends.

"Does Alan pilot Thunderbird 3?" Jeff was surprised to see the twinkle in Oscar's eyes, and he nodded.

"He will, when he's left school and he gets some more hours in the simulator. I've talked it over with him and he wants to be the main pilot. It's really the only Thunderbird without a regular pilot. And none of the others want to volunteer. Gordon gets space sick. Why?"

Oscar let a smile twitch at his lips. "You reminded me on the phone about our conversation on the deck. Do you remember what Alan said…it was the first time he'd spoken since…it happened."

Jeff ignored the reference to his wife's death and concentrated on their conversation that night, trying to remember thirteen years in the past. Suddenly he let out a barked laugh, shaking his head.

"That's right. That's right." He chuckled. Seeing the others confused faces, Jeff sighed and explained, "Oscar and I got to talking the night Alan got out of the hospital after your mother passed on. We started dreaming up the Thunderbirds, though we didn't know it at the time. Alan had woken up and come downstairs, and I was holding him in my arms. I don't know if you remember, but he'd stopped talking, so he just lay against my chest looking out at the fields and the stars. I thought he wasn't listening but just as the sun came up, he muttered that basically, he would fly the rocket and it would be red and then promptly went to sleep."

Scott smiled and sat down, resting his elbows on his knees, and his chin on the palms of his hands. "He always did know what he wanted."

Gordon snorted and sat down beside him. "Yeah. It was usually whatever I had."

Scott shook his head and Jeff murmured "In fairness Gordon, you always wanted whatever John had, and John always wanted what Virgil had. And Virgil wanted Scott's things, and Scott…well, he just got into whatever his paws could reach. Which was usually my work bag."

Oscar nodded sagely. "That sounds about right. I remember the time when he managed to smear peanut butter all over six months worth of flight reports."

They passed the next few hours talking over old times, reminding the boys of some of the things they had gotten up to when they were younger, and Jeff and Scott spoke of Alan's exploits, up to and including blowing up the school lab.

"The entire lab?" Oscar's jaw dropped and Jeff nodded.

"The entire lab. I don't think we're being fair on him, though. The accident investigation ruled that the gas burner was defective and that the teacher was negligent in allowing the students to perform that experiment unsupervised. But still…he never did chemistry again."

"Thank God." Scott muttered, standing and walking to the door, looking down the corridor to the OR. "What's taking them so long?"

"They will take as long as they need, Scott." Gordon murmured, stretching out. "Remember how long my operation was after the accident? I hope you weren't as bad then?"

Scott shook his head, folding his arms across his chest and leaning up against the doorframe, his back to the corridor. "No. I wasn't. You were out by the time I'd heard."

Virgil nodded, remembering. "Yeah…and they'd only just managed to get John down from Apollo space station. Alan was what, 12? Yeah…he was at school when it happened. Watched it on the TV at school. Dad had just gotten off the phone with me and was trying to phone him, but Alan got to me first. I'd never heard him so upset before. Of course all the newscasters saying that no one could have survived the crash didn't exactly help much. He thought you were dead. The school were going to sedate him but he just collapsed…"

They all fell silent once more, remembering the dark time just after Gordon's hydrofoil accident. A knock on the door brought them back to their senses, and Jeff was relieved to see a surgeon standing in the doorway. The best thing was, the man seemed to be calm, collected and not preparing himself to give bad news.

"Hi, I'm Dr. McClure…which one of you do I talk to?" He asked, rubbing his hands brusquely.

"All of us." Scott muttered, shooting a look at his father as if daring him to say anything different.

"Ok then. Your man…or should I say boy," this was directed at all of them with a dark look, "will be fine. He got one hell of a crack on the head and we've immobilised his shoulder and collarbone for the moment. Both have stress fractures but should be fine given time to heal. He has a small skull fracture, which we have been monitoring, and there is no sign that the brain is swelling, so again, that should be fine too. He has two broken ribs, and the rest are pretty badly bruised. One of them shifted and nicked the Splenic Artery, which is what caused the massive drop in his blood pressure when you were bringing him here. We have repaired it – you'll be glad to know we didn't have to remove the spleen, and again, with rest, he should make a full recovery. He also has a chest and sinus infection. I would like him to stay here for three or four days for observation, especially with the concussion, and after that, barring any unforseen complications, I assume you will want to transport him back to your own medical facilities."

Jeff gave a curt nod, taking a deep, relieved breath. "Thank you, Doctor. Thank you so much."

McClure shook his hand firmly, his nose twitching slightly. "That's no problem, sir. It's not every day I get to work on a Thunderbird. Though I'm glad it's not. I have just one question though…what happened to him?"

With the relief that Alan was going to be fine, Gordon's natural mischievousness returned and he grinned and piped up, "Dorothy had a house fall on him."

OOOoooOOO

Alan stared up at the white ceiling silently. When he had woken up, he had been surprised to see he was in a hospital he didn't recognise, but was relieved when he saw his father and Scott asleep in two chairs at either side of the bed. A nurse had quietly come in and checked his vitals, smiling prettily at him when she realised he had woken up. Then a doctor had come and checked him over, and both of them had carried out a whispered conversation about how he was feeling. The doctor had patted him on his uninjured shoulder and told him he was going to be ok.

The only thing that Alan was confused about was the fact that both the doctor and the nurse kept calling him Dorothy. He had tried to ask, but Doctor Neilson smiled and pointed to the name plate above his bed, and the name on his charts, and Alan had let out a soft chuckle.

"It's all in the interest of secrecy, young Dorothy Gale. And we had to have something for our paperwork." With that, he'd left Alan smiling, thankful that the boy was in such good health.

When Jeff woke up, he found Alan's blue eyes piercing into his, and he smiled, reaching out to touch his hair. As he opened his mouth to speak, Alan lifted a finger to his lips and gestured to where Scott's helmet lay on the bed beside his leg. "Let him sleep." Alan whispered.

Jeff nodded and smiled. "How are you feeling, son?" He whispered back.

Alan managed a half smile and replied, "My head cold feels a lot better, thanks. I don't feel as stuffed up."

Jeff sighed and shook his head. "Glad to see you've retained your sense of humour."

"I'm not the only one." Alan replied. "Whose idea was it to call me Dorothy Gale? Although we do come from Kansas, I distinctly don't remember any tornados."

Jeff nodded. "True. No tornados, but there was a mini whirlwind. Gordon and Virgil are gone home. They took 1 and 2 with them, but they'll come back when you are ready to come home. Oh, before I forget, someone wants to talk to you." He unhooked his earpiece and threaded it around Alan's ear, making sure the mike lay near his mouth.

"Alan to John, come in."

Above on Thunderbird 5, John bolted out of a sound sleep, and was half out of his chair when he realised what was happening.

"Alan? That you?"

"None other, my skyward brother. How's things your end?"

"You little Ape! Don't you ever, ever do that again, do you hear me!" John shouted down the microphone, making Alan roll his eyes. "I never want to hear Dad ask me to patch him through to a hospital for an emergency landing again, because one of my brothers blood pressure got so low that he should have been dead!"

"Hey! Don't blame me, blame the house that fell on me. And that twit that wouldn't get out of it." Alan replied grumpily. "Dad, John is picking on me!"

Jeff let out a long, steady breath as Scott's head jerked up in shock at the loud shouts that were coming through his own earpiece.

"John, stop picking on Alan." He muttered sleepily. "It's his turn on the swing." Blinking, he looked down at his brother and frowned in confusion. "Or not."


End file.
